Similarities
by Mister Melancholy
Summary: When Barry and Paul take a moment to have a nice conversation with each other, they realize they have more in common than they would’ve ever thought. ColdCoffee, Barry/Paul
1. Similarities

**Warning: **Contains spoilers and some love-doviness between two guys—you have been warned.

**X X X**

**Similarities  
**When Barry and Paul take a moment to have a nice conversation with each other, they realize they have more in common than they would've ever thought. ColdCoffee, Barry/Paul

**X X X**

Stuffing his cold hands hastily in his pant pockets, the purple-haired boy trudged against the snow white ground, the low crunching beneath his feet indicating the wintery wonderland was still fresh. A long breath escaped from his chapped, frozen lips, the hotness of it showing through the chilly air. His flushed, pallid face succumbed to the sporadic winds cutting adjacent the apples of his cheeks. Short shivers ran down his spine frequently; he figured if his Pokèmon could handle the bitter cold, so could he, but at this very moment in time all he proved was that he was wrong—he couldn't stand the brisk Mt. Silver air, nor could his Pokèmon, save for Magmortar, and, for a short while, Torterra even.

Heaving out a few more long breaths, the air around him reacting the same way as before, the purple-haired boy snatched for the side of his grey backpack and rummaged through it hurriedly, reaching out the proper Pokèball he was looking for. With one swift motion, he threw it lightly in the air as a red beam shot out of it, his flying Pokèmon appearing right before him. He sighed and jumped on, mumbling under his breath with directions insisting his Hunchkrow fly to the nearest Pokèmon Center. Loyally, the huge, black bird took flight in an instant, the strong winds hitting his face with an even greater force. His arm subconsciously covered his face in attempt to block out the majority of the razor-blade winds in succession.

His position stayed like this for a few more minutes, until the shrilling sound of his Hunchkrow's cry suggested they were at his requested destination. Hopping off, he gently patted the soft black feathers of the bird and returned it back in its Pokèball in an instant, heading towards the cozy-looking center quickly. Thereupon entrance, the pinkish tint of his face settled down to its normal coloration, a feeling of relief and warmth hugging the entirety of his body. The only other craving his mind was nagging him for was for a nice, hot cup of cocoa.

The purple-haired boy inched towards the front desk of the center and nonchalantly asked for a warm beverage, inevitably receiving a cup of tea, lest anything his ten-year-old mind would actually mind drinking. However, he took the cup and faked a grateful "thank you," carefully balancing the hot cup in his hands as he slowly walked towards an empty table. As he sat down, another feeling of relief surged through his body, and he began slightly sipping the tea—completely bitter, a taste that even more calmed his normally aggravated demeanor—enjoying the moment of peace he experienced barely ever.

Of course, at a time like this, gentle, peaceful moments never lasted for even a fraction of a minute when concerning the purple-haired boy. Right after his first sip of the bitter tea, a loud and awfully-familiar voice rang through the vacancy of the center, its echoes stinging his ears painfully. A short interlude of silence commenced, and immediately afterwards, the loud, shocked voice returned with full intensity, its volume increasing every passing second until the yells were practically right beside him—and, unfortunately, when he veered his head to his side, he regrettably had to say the owner of the shrieking _was_ right next to him.

The blonde, his face glowing with a deep ruddiness, plopped his shivering body in front of the purple-haired boy. The overly ecstatic grin plastered against his face made him react with excessive twitching; there was only one person he knew of whose smile could annoy him as much as it did right now, and that person went by the name of—

"Barry, 'member me?"

The purple-haired boy shifted uncomfortably in his seat but restricted his mouth to release any kind of speech that could inevitably lead to a conversation. Instead, with an iron wall of ignorance, he took another small sip of his tea and glared uneasily to the side, avoiding as much eye contact with the blonde as possible. However, his attempts at ignorance proved to be useless when, after a few mere seconds of awkward equanimity amongst each other, the blonde asked again, only in a louder tone, "Barry, remember? That time at Mt. Coronet, you saved my life! And at that other time at Stark Mountain, well… I saved _your life_! So, I guess that makes us even then, huh?" His sparkling orange eyes gleefully stared at him with obvious mirth. "Oh, but… but…! I remember you saying that you owed _me_ one, so it would actually be nice if you talked to me, y'know?"

The excruciatingly obvious hint at conversation stabbed wholeheartedly at the purple-haired boy's conscience, his still-chapped lips quivering slightly with the question of whether or not to heed the blonde's hidden begging. And, although his mind had been relatively winning the war of whether or not to contribute to the horrid conversation, his lips deemed to disapprove this and acted all on its own by unconsciously releasing the words, "Is that so?"

Flamboyantly orange eyes dazzled in surprise at the half-anticipated, half-doubted response, but took it in with extreme bliss, content with a possible and greater chance of having a conversation with _Paul_. "Yeah, yeah! But anyway, on another topic, what're you doing in Blackthorn?"

"I should ask you the same"—the purple-haired boy took another short sip of the bitter tea, musing at the idea of actually talking to the annoying, blonde nuisance, but figured it couldn't hurt too much; if his punishment of telling him that he "owed him one" was to only talk to him, then he couldn't be bothered with it as much as the other possible hideous scenarios cluttering his head—"but, to simply answer your question, my journey at Mt. Silver didn't work out too well."

"Oh, Mt. Silver? I was just training there, actually! But, the cold… Wow, it's crazy! Flying with Staraptor from there to here was almost impossible 'cause it was so cold!" His hands started caressing the sides of his arms with a quick fluctuating motion, physically indicating how cold it actually was. He even scrunched up his nose with uneasiness, sticking out his tongue with disgust. "I think I nearly died from coldness!"

"Same here, but to a lesser extent. So, what are you doing here anyway?"

"Yeah, really? _And_, I'm only here 'cause the old man's wanting to do something in Dragon's Den or something, and it's in Blackthorn… and, well, I couldn't find anything to do here so I headed towards Mt. Silver for some extra training. I didn't really need it much since I've already beaten _Ash_ and all"—he grinned wildly—"and I just need to get two more badges and I'm ready for the Sinnoh League!"

Upon the mention of that one name—_Ash_—Paul's lone brow raised peculiarly, deeming his interests digging further into the conversation. "Ash, you say? _You_ beat him?"

"Yep! Amazing, huh? His Gible was a cinch. It didn't stand a chance _against_ Empoleon at all!"

"Gible…?"

"He caught it just a few days ago. And, I mean, it is a tough little fella, I've gotta say, but its Draco Meteor needs loads of more work to perfect, and—oh, why am I talking 'bout him anyway?!"

"Aren't you his friend?"

"I guess so. But, I think we're more on par as rivals. He's more or less respectable when it comes to his Pokèmon, especially—" He stopped himself midsentence to avoid the losses he's experienced when he's battled the black-haired Pokèmon trainer and hoped that the purple-haired boy in front of him wouldn't realize.

Of course, he made no mention of the interesting pause and just continued talking. "Same here, but to a greater extent. I can't say I actually respect him, though."

"Eh, that's sorta true for me too. It annoyed me so much seeing him beat the Hearthome gym leader when I cou— I mean, right after I beat her. I mean, her Pokèmon was probably weakened from my fighting, so of course it would be a cakewalk for him, y'know?"

"Sure," the purple-haired boy said calmly, shrugging. He then took another slip, the yellowish green liquid almost completely gone from the cup.

"But yeah, let's stop talking 'bout him for now. He's not so important." The blonde nonchalantly waved his hand and looked to the side with a bored-out-of-my-mind façade, but that mask didn't last long when his optimistic voice got ahead of himself: "Hey, what's your favorite color, Paul?"

Again, Paul's brow raised in a mixture of suspicion and confusion, his lips twisting with those same feelings. "Why? …I don't have one anyway."

"I bet you do! C'mon, just think about it!"

The purple-haired boy didn't even bother musing on the question. Instead, he quickly answered with a, "Blue," which he could've agreed is partly the truth; the vibes of calmness the color blue gave off relaxed him so—even after having to deal with the everyday idiots he manages to bump into. His soulless black eyes scrutinized the happy-go-lucky demeanor of the person adjacent him.

"Really? Oh wow, same with me! It's just such an awesome color, isn't it? Plus, my very own Empoleon is blue; he's the absolute best. What's the yuckiest thing you've ever had to do?"

By now, the purple-haired boy wasn't even going to bother with wasting time asking the hyperactive blonde why in the world he was asking all these sorts of random, unrelated, and nonsensical questions. Instead, he just willingly went along with him. "When I still had my Turtwig, me and my brother were walking around this forest in Kanto and we happened to run into a Muk. That idiot wanted to catch it but ended up getting swallowed up by it"—Barry suddenly laughed out loud, the purple-haired boy smirking while mumbling, "an ironic twist of fate," under his breath—"and so I head to dive in and save him. It took months for the smell to finally die down."

"That's hilarious! Mine had something to do with a _Grimer_. When I was a kid, my daddy would always let me go out into the forest near Lake Verity, and one day when I was walking 'round there, I stumbled into a Grimer! I don't even think they're a native Pokèmon anywhere in Sinnoh, and later on I learned that it actually belonged to a trainer, but anyway, I was practically stuck in a pile of purple slime for hours until the trainer came back and put it back in its Pokèball. My daddy wouldn't let me go outside for a really long time, and he even made me take practically ten baths a day for a year! Why don't you try asking some questions? Oh, but before that, what about getting older makes you most afraid?"

"Becoming like my brother."

"Ah, but you're lucky you have a brother! I don't even have _any_ siblings, but my dad is pretty cool. I wanna be just like him." Shining, bright stars formed in place of his orange eyes. "I'm really scared of losing since I've never lost before, y'know?" The blonde lied, laughing. "Okay, so go ahead and ask me something."

"What's your… favorite place?"

"Ah, that's way too easy! I've gotta say Stark Mountain, for various reasons that I won't mention. But the fact that I saved my role model at that place might possible be one. Which Pokèmon do you think is most like you?"

"A Weavile."

"Aha, that makes sense. I would've said the exact same thing! I mean, I can really imagine you being a Weavile. What Pokèmon do you think is most like me?"

The purple-haired boy didn't even have a moment's second of thinking on the subject, as if he'd already prepared having to answer this question and memorized it for years. "A Minun."

"_Eh_, why? I've always thought I would be something along the lines of something cool, like a Floatzel or an Electivire."

"You're small, insignificant, hyper, and _full_ of energy like a Minun. Plus, it's blue, and if I'm not mistaken, that's your favorite color. Or would you rather be a Plusle?"

"Oh, so I see now! Then a Minun I am! You're a good listener!" The blonde flashed a toothy grin. "If you could change your first name to anything else, what name would you choose?"

"P… aul."

Barry smiled. "Ha, you're really funny, Paul! I think I can see myself as a Damion, but that's all I can think of really. Okay, lesse here… What's the strangest thing you ever brought home when you were a kid?"

"… Some time when Reggie was off collecting the Johto badges, I was still at home and was out fishing. I caught this Pokèmon from the river and brought it home, but my mother only threw it away. I turned out that it was just a piece of garbage. I could've sworn it was a Poliwag, though."

"Ha! I think once I brought home a flower for _my mom_ on Mother's Day, but she let it back out in the wild. I actually pulled an _Oddish _out of the ground! Okay, okay, so would you rather work with your head or your hands?"

Just before the purple-haired boy was about to answer, a red tint smeared across his face. However, the naïve blonde didn't even seem to realize the hidden message inside that question; or, maybe, spending time with his older brother wasn't too much of a good idea. "Wh… what kind of a question is _that_?"

"Eh? I think it's a perfectly normal question, see?" The blonde grabbed a book from under the table and shoved it in front of the purple-haired boy's face rashly whilst saying, "I've been reading questions from this book the entire time, hehe."

The purple-haired boy's black eyes grew to an exceptional and profound size. The title of the book was apparently, "Conversation Fun for Couples." He wouldn't have minded so much at the lack of creativity the blonde had, being as desperate as to having to use a book, but the latter part of the title made him shudder slightly. He'd been asking him questions aimed towards a conversation between _couples_ the entire time? And, for a second there, they seemed like normal, everyday questions to him!

In-between the purple-haired boy's silence, the blonde retracted his hand and looked at the front of the book, gasping. "Ah, wrong book! This is my daddy's!" He looked at his backpack and gasped again, only somewhat louder than the preceding gasp. "Ack! This is my _daddy's_ bag!" Upon closer inspection, he laughed meekly. "Oh wait, ignore that."

Paul sighed with an irritated undertone, his frowning evident on his already-scowling face. Then, with one swift motion, he walked out of his seat and stuffed his hands back into his pockets like earlier before in the morning, his eyes unconsciously gazing outside to stare at the orangey-yellowish sky, the sun setting low in the sky. A phase of equanimity overcame him again, only to be ruined _again_ by that same person who ruined it earlier.

"Hey, hold up, Paul!" The purple-haired boy turned around and looked at the taller, panting blonde, who was scratching the back of his head. "There's something I need to tell you!"

"What, is it another question retaining the theme of couples?" the purple-haired boy scoffed harshly, an unforgiving glare stabbing itself deep within Barry's body, piercing it with no hesitation. "Or, perhaps you're here to declare your commitment for me?"

"Uh, about that… Wait, no, there's something else. I really love you—"

Paul's eyes widened, but quickly returned to normal after a split second, his scowl setting deeper into his lips.

"…r training style! Your Pokèmon are amazing and full of grace! I love you! I envy you!"

But, before Barry could continue his never-ending ramble on everything he "absolutely loved" about Paul, the purple-haired boy had already made his way towards the door to breathe in the fresh air of Blackthorn City. That didn't last too long, though, when he realized the annoying blonde was hot on his trail.

Sending out his Hunchkrow for the second time of the day, he hopped on hastily and commanded for it to go as far away from the hyperactive blonde as possible, and even further directions in case the blonde just so-happened to follow with his Staraptor (and why he bothered remembering he had a Staraptor was beyond even him; he would have to agree that his listening skills was oblivious to even himself). And, before the blonde could even send out his own flying Pokèmon, the two were already lost in the foggy clouds.

Barry sighed and, with a small aggravated dance, started pulling out his hair in a fit. "Ack! My dad lied to me! Being subtle about these things didn't work at all! Gah!"

**. . .**

Returning to the place he yearned to escape from would've only made sense to a madman, but to the purple-haired boy, he found every possible reason he could think of to be back here.

Breathing in the crisp, cold, fresh air of the top of Mt. Silver, he took his hands from his pockets and raised them towards his cheeks, rubbing them furiously against to create a friction of heat. Then, he sighed suddenly, the hopes he had had since meeting the hyperactive and apparently stubborn blonde heightened to great lengths, but crushed at the same exact moment. He didn't even think it would be possible for something like that to happen—for his simple, little hopes being crushed just when they have risen. Then again, nothing seemed to ever go his way. What made him think that something he had denied frequently would ever actually happen? What made him actually think an oblivious blonde like him would realize that the purple-haired boy… what he has felt for quite some time would be something more than being rivals? Something more than friends even?

But, he couldn't blame the blonde too much, now, could he? He had always been a snobby, arrogant jerk towards him—and, well, most everyone anyway—so, why would someone like him actually reciprocate his feelings—the feelings that he have told himself were unreal for various reasons, but at times like this, found it plausible but too good to be true?

A wave of depression washed over his face. He couldn't blame himself too much, though, considering his cruelty was practically second nature to him, and the blonde should've realized that from their recurring encounters by now. And—he frowned. He shouldn't be blaming anyone any more. When did his mind even get so worked up about something like this anyway? Why in the world would he have… "indescribable feelings" for someone who was the complete opposite of what he preferred: calm, reserved, and mature?

The purple-haired boy began trudging around the top of Mt. Silver and was about to sit on a random snow-covered rock, his body insisting that he sit down and rest for a while so his mind could stop roaming into the idea of the blonde, when he heard even more crunching noises right behind him. The young trainer looked over his shoulder and was completely surprised of the figure running towards him, his hands, out of nature, reaching towards his eyes to rub them and see if what he was seeing wasn't his imagine. And it wasn't.

The figure was nearing him, his blonde hair becoming more and more visible, and eventually the whole of his body was visible, appearing before him in a split second. He was panting heavily as if from running for a very long while, and he was shivering wildly as his attire only consisted of a green tail-coat, baggy brown pants, and shoes—nothing suitable for a snowy mountaintop. "Boy," he said with a caring but lecturing tone, "what on earth are you doing here? What's your name? Are you lost?"

"Training. Paul. No." The purple-haired boy was shocked at the similarities between father and son; he was sure that this man was Palmer, the Tower Tycoon—or, otherwise known as the father of a certain blonde boy… He shook off the thought of him and frowned, looking up at the tall, _towering_ figure in front of him.

"Paul, did you say? Sounds familiar… Ah, my son's mentioned you before!" The tall man began scrutinizing the purple-haired boy and nodded his head with satisfaction multiple times. "Ah, you seem to be in good shape. Do you train a lot, boy?"

"Yes, sir."

"And, as I've heard, you seem capable of doing everything on your own, right?"

"That is… correct, sir."

"So… I see then. You'll be a perfect candidate for my son." His eyes started to sparkle. "My boy is growing up so fast!"

"What do you mean by that, sir?" The little shimmer of hope placed deep within his innocent intentions began slightly growing into even more than just a shimmer—possibly a thread, or even a ribbon. But, the feeling of denial still kept intact, killing that smudge of hope currently arising.

"Ah, isn't it obvious? My son obviously wants you…"

Paul bit his lip, sighing sadly.

"…as a mentor! Ah, I just can't train my boy to become the best of the best like his old man anymore, with having to deal being the Tower Tycoon and all. A companion such as yourself would be perfect for him. And it might stop him from talking about you all the time. You're all he ever talks about anymore, y'know? He doesn't even talk about his old man anymore, but ah well! He's moved on for the better, and I'm proud!"

"Sir… if you don't mind me asking, what is it he tells you about me?"

"Usually he says things like, 'Paul's the best,' or, 'Paul is the coolest trainer around,' but at rare times things kept deep into his head escape his mouth and he says something along the lines of, 'Do you think this is just an obsession or something more?' Now, normally I wouldn't say my boy isn't capable of deep thinking, but… gee, that boy sure does surprise me. I mean, it's quite obvious my boy has fallen in love… and for a boy, apparently. But, well, what can ya say; not all the best of the best trainers are straight. There's some gym leaders and Frontier Brains that just so-happens to be homosexual, and—oh, I'm getting off track. What I'm trying to say is, he's in love with you but just has trouble saying his feelings sometimes. He's always in a rush, y'know, and it's hard for him to say what he needs to say sometimes… When he's talking, he gets off track, or just can't talk to some people without that book, and—wait a minute… I already answered your question a few minutes ago, haven't I? Rambling is a curse in my family, I tell you. Ah, my apologies… Paul, right?"

"That is correct, sir."

"Of course! And you're even full of manners!" The Tower Tycoon stared off into the sky and smiled at the yellowish-orange dragon flying through the foggy sky. "Ah, Dragonite's here! He's been staying at Dragon's Den with the Blackthorn gym leader for quite some time, and he seems to be in better shape than ever! Well, it seems I'll be off my way. Just be sure to take care of my son, alright?" And, with a simple swoosh of orange, he was gone in a snap.

Paul took in every single word the Tower Tycoon stated like a sponge; his hope that Barry would reciprocate his feelings—and, by now, he more or less was able to resist his constant denials about this fact—was growing to the extremes. He was almost positive that things would finally go the way he wanted. _Almost_.

The purple-haired boy sat down on the rock and heard more crunches of snow, musing some more on the matter. And, in around twenty minutes of just sitting in the middle of the top of a mountain, he began hearing another pair of feet crunching against the snow. The silhouette against the foggy background was beginning to take shape as it neared him quickly, eventually turning into that all too-familiar figure he's thought of constantly in countless situations.

"P-Paul!" he called out when he found the purple-haired boy sitting on the snow-white rock, his flushed face radiating with a behemoth of happiness. When he was finally close enough to talk normally to him, he looked down at him and smiled, small tears forming in the corners of his orange eyes. "I… I remembered you saying that you were training at Mt. Silver earlier this morning… and, I just thought that you might have ended up being up here again, y'know, training again or something." He eyed the young boy's loneliness. "But I guess not. Look, I'm… s… s… Agh, I'm not sure if I can say this!" He repeatedly slapped his cheeks to knock some sense into himself and breathed in a very long breath of fresh, cold air. "I'm s-s-s-s-s-s-sorry! About… earlier. I mean, I guess it was all so sudden. And… I didn't even consider what you would say, or if you would ever even think about it, or maybe I was just being a little too subtle, or maybe—" Barry was suddenly interrupted when he realized the purple-haired boy was now in front of him, his soulless black orbs staring up at him with full intensity.

"You really do talk a lot. And… I'm surprised at how well you listen, too."

"You… you really think so?!"

"I know so." The confidence in his voice seemed almost foreign to him; he had never talked in such a way before. An arrogant tone, maybe, but never so much a faithful and confident tone like this.

"Then," the blonde said softly, slowly inching towards the younger boy hesitantly. "Like I said, I'm sorry again, but I want to do this again. I… I…" His quivering pink lips somehow, although tentative, reached downwards to caress the purple-haired boy's cold ones, the supposed short kiss turning into a much heated and longer version of twisted tongues and bruising lips. The action eventually lead to Paul reaching upwards to latch his hands around the blonde's neck to move him closer towards himself and intensifying the kiss at the same time. The two stayed in that position for the longest time, with the only interruption of their kissing be it Barry's heavy push against the purple-haired boy's small, broad chest. Both boys started having out gasps, trying to breathe in as much oxygen as possible, as Barry began shivering uncontrollably, his legs eventually being overcome by his own weight. "Ack, the cold…!"

Paul smirked, somewhat content with the heated kiss—and was even enjoying the view of the ecstatic boy bouncing up and down on the snow like a lunatic. He was sure the blonde was one interesting person, and that same interesting person was apparently the exact opposite of him; yet, there were similarities that naturally paired them together, like adjacent pieces of a puzzle, bringing them together through attraction. It were these similarities that made him enjoy being with the blonde—and, at the same time, the differences that set them aside kept their personalities in check to keep their equilibrium.

And, of course, there was the fact that he was a good kisser. Now, _that_ was nothing too far from denial; and, from the obvious blushes and gleeful tint in Barry's orange eyes, the purple-haired boy could easily assume that the blonde thought of him as a pretty darn good kisser too.

**X X X**

Haha, so, I fortunately don't have school today (slippery roads, and blah blah blah) and when I woke up, my sister was already telling me about the new Pokèmon opening and how BARRY was in it. So, being the rabid Barry fangirl I was, I watched it and completely fan-squealed at the ending. It showed Barry _and_ Paul practically _together_! And my ColdCoffee senses started tingling, so I just started writing this. xD Woo, my first fanfiction in a very long time! And there's a lot of dialogue, yay! (Barry talks a lot more than Paul does, though. :L) It seems that I can never put the two in romantic situations, though… Gah. I was gonna do it a lot earlier in the story, in a confession scene, but that failed. And all my other "OMGCONFESSIONMOMENTS" seemed to fail too, except for the last one. xD

…

…Woah, I haven't written anything for a very long time. I'm so rusty. D:

And the ending wasn't anything like I originally thought it would be. D:

And woah, I reached 10 pages on Word from this. :D

But oh well. It was a good practice oneshot (and possible twoshot, since I'm just not satisfied with this) to get me back into shape a little.

Oh, and I guess you can call this a sequel to "A Paul in Need," which is a sequel to "Achoo!" I mean, considering Barry mentioned some events in them. xD

But anyway, I'm already planning on writing a Comashipping sooner or later this week. :o


	2. Achoo!

**Achoo!  
**Barry decides to train at the top of Mt. Coronet, but was stupidly ignorant of the harsh and snowy weather, which cursed him with a horrible cold. Luckily, someone comes by in the nick of time to help him. ColdCoffee

**X X X**

"Great, Heracross! Now use Fury Cutter again to finish that Snover off!" The giant blue beetle did as his trainer commanded obediently and proceeded to jabbing the opponent with the huge horn on its head furiously. The latter immediately fell to the ground in the instant Heracross stopped attacking, the blonde flashing his Pokémon a huge victory smile and a thumbs up.

"Awesome, Heracross! You'll become as strong as Paul's Pokémon if you keep this up!" The trainer trudged towards the beetle slowly, the fresh snow crunching under his brown loafers in every step. Once he was within close range, he patted his Pokémon happily. "Now let's see if we can find a—" A loud sneeze interrupted his sentence, and, unfortunately, the person responsible for that very sneeze was him.

He stifled another incoming sneeze and rubbed an index finger under his nose, his forehead warming up by the second and his energy seemingly seeping away from his body. "Aw, great," he moaned to himself angrily, his voice stuffy and tired, "I'm s-s-si—" The blonde let out yet another sneeze, causing his Pokémon to stand aback a few inches to prevent it from suffering the same fate. The blonde seemed annoyed by its sudden action, but couldn't find the energy to throw a fit on the spot. Instead, he took out the beetle's Pokéball and returned him inside. Then, he turned to his Pokétch and switched to the Marking Map App, attempting to find the nearest Pokémon Centre, which was, much to his dismay, nearly five miles away from where he was standing right now.

"What on earth…? Of all the t-times…" Frustrated, he slowly turned his head around to inspect his entire surroundings to find a shelter—_any_ kind of shelter—as to protect himself from the severe blizzard nearing the area he was training in. All he could find, though, were a bunch of trees—a bunch of hideous, green trees powdered with snow. Oh, and Abamasnows.

Wait, hold on… _Abamasnows_?

They seemed angry at the blonde for using their children, which were apparently the Snovers, as punching bags, and were gathered in what seemed like hundreds of them just a few feet away from the sick boy. The blonde's thinking was somewhat delayed, but when the event of raging Abamanows speeding towards him finally kicked in, his first instinct was to send out a Pokémon. However, he remembered that he had been training the entire day, and because of that, his Pokémon were definitely tired from the non-stop training regimen; so his second instinct was to run for dear life, pretty much—except, the only problem with that was 1) he was sick, 2) his energy was at a maximum low, and 3) there was possibly no way he could outrun a bunch of raging Abamasnows _in the snow_, even without the conditions he was suffering right now.

With that, he figured there was only one other way to save himself from the pack of furious Abamasnows, and even though he was very reluctant, he was desperate enough to do it. He stood up straight and eyed the stomping trees head on. Then, he opened his mouth and attempted to yell out an apology for bashing on their… uh, children… but no matter how hard he yelled, and no matter how much he yelled, his voice couldn't seem to register into the angry trees' brains due to the howling wind eating up his voice. That left him to being doomed, albeit he knew he was doomed from his previous plan anyway.

Sighing, he slipped down onto the crunchy snow, feeling the cold, white fluff tickle his hands and cheeks gently, and closed his eyes from the image of rampaging Abamasnows, fearing the worst of getting trampled to death.

Man, oh man, a death of getting trampled by a bunch of trees… what's worse than this?

Mt. Coronet is known to be a great training spot for mostly fire- and fighting-types with the huge population of ice Pokémon chilling around. However, this certain purple-haired boy wasn't training atop the snowy mountain with a fire-type _or_ a fighting-type _or_ a steel-type… or any other type that had a type advantage against the ice-types that thrived there. Oh no, he was using a grass- and ground-type, his Torterra. That much should've been obvious, though, as he wasn't one to think solely on match type-ups. Fighting all these ice Pokémon would be good training for his upcoming gym battle at Snowpoint gym, too, which was the main reason he chose this specific spot to do train.

Wrapped up in a bundle of scarves and a deep black winter coat, he walked smoothly along the snowy plains, thanks to the snow shoes he was wearing, of the mountain, trying to find a nice clearing for training purposes. He found one easily and fished out a Pokéball from his pocket, throwing it in the air. The ball opened and a flashing red light emitted from it in the form of a huge blob, which later disappeared and was replaced by the Continent Pokémon, Torterra, saying its signature cry in all its glory. It didn't seem fazed out by the snow and hail at all, even if it was harsh and pelted it roughly.

The purple-haired boy didn't seem too fazed about the weather either, only wincing once from getting hit by a small chunk of hail. Though, ignoring that fact, he looked around to find some easy bait to get his training started. He had searched for at least a minute until he could spot a moving tree from the corner of his eye—a Snover, perfect.

His Pokémon seemed to sense the Snover too, and began using long-range attacks to battle the little snow tree from where he was standing. Just when he was about to use his final attack to finish the Snover off, a loud and disturbing noise echoed through the entire area, leaving the attacker in a startled daze and the Snover a chance to run off in freedom.

"Torterra! Don't let _anything_ distract you from training," the purple-haired boy scolded angrily, though he remained composed, brushing the sudden event off instantly. "That Sneasel… I've heard the gym leader has one. Attack it, now."

The Torterra shifted its head to see a small, male Sneasel running across the snow, seeming to want to play with the two. The Continent Pokémon then started attacking with all its might to please its trainer, hitting every attack right on spot. The Sneasel, with a playful intent, must've realized he was being used as a training target instead of a play buddy the moment he realized the serious expression on his competitor's face. He began to run off at that point, but his attempts failed with a strong Frenzy Plant capturing him. The Sneasel began to feign in serious injury, but Torterra wasn't about to let go until his trainer commanded him to. Until, that was, when they heard the same loud and disturbing noise again, startling the giant turtle like last time. It unconsciously released the Sneasel from the hold of its Frenzy Plant, allowing it to escape, but apparently, that very action started to make its trainer annoyed beyond relief.

"What the heck was that? What did I tell you about not letting _anything_ distract you from training, especially not some hideous sound?" Torterra was nodding his head and saying its name over and over again, like it was saying sorry to its trainer, but the purple-haired boy was completely oblivious by his Pokémon's claims. Instead, he returned his Torterra into its Pokéball and started to roam about Mt. Coronet, intending to find whatever was responsible for the distraction so he could finally train in peace.

However, passing tree after tree after tree was getting tiring for him, and maybe even getting him lost. His annoyance has calmed down in a few minutes of trudging through the endless snowy wonderland, so there was really no use to search for the distraction anymore. It was also getting dark, and even though his training day was ruined by something so unexpected, he decided to let it pass him, as he hadn't planned on battling the Snowpoint gym leader the next day anyway. The constant getting pelted by hail was annoying him, too.

He turned on his heels to head back down to level ground, when suddenly the cries of peculiar Pokémon got his attention. He turned back around to see a group of Abamasnows from a short, running distance away, and immediately fished through his pocket again to send out his Torterra, smirking in content.

"Perfect. A bunch of moving targets is just what we need. Torterra, beat them all down." The giant turtle used long-range attacks again to hurt the Abamasnows, and after endless thrashing of Razor Leaves and Frenzy Plants, every single last Abamasnow was completely KO'd.

"Okay, that's enough for today." He took out Torterra's Pokéball, but was surprised and awfully irritated when it was knocked on the ground with one of Torterra's Razor Leaves. Just when he was about to question his Pokémon's actions for doing so, the giant turtle was already slowly nudging the purple-haired boy towards the Abamasnows littered on the ground. Then, just when they were close enough, Torterra used Frenzy Plant to raise a lanky body up in the air, raising it down in front of its trainer. The trainer, glancing at the body, realized it was a boy, blonde, and it seemed like he was suffering from a terrible sickness.

He eyed his Torterra and scowled. "You wasted my time just for this loser?" Torterra seemed caught up in shame, but at the same time seemed like it didn't regret its actions. The trainer, angry, got his Pokéball and returned the giant turtle again, looking at the blonde and letting out a short sigh. He wasn't going to let this guy, even if he was a stranger, die with him knowing he could've prevented all of that if he could just carry along an extra person back to Pokémon Centre.

Then again, maybe the hail pelting his head had gotten to him.

Whatever the case, the purple-haired boy sent out his Honchcrow and carried the blonde on his back ("Hmph, he's heavier than I thought…") throwing him atop the bird. He sat behind him and told the bird to head for the nearest Pokémon Centre, feeling regret the moment he heard that same loud and disturbing noise come out from the mouth of the blonde.

There was a pang on the side of his head, and his eyes started to flutter open, revealing a pair of fresh and once again energetic orange eyes. He sat up, making the wet towel on his head fall to his lap, and looked around, realizing he was at a Pokémon Centre. "What… what… what on earth is this? How did I end up in here?"

A nurse suddenly came into his room and smiled gently at him, placing a tray with a bowl of soup, a piece of bread, and a glass of water in front of him. "Feeling any better?"

"I guess…" He grabbed the bread and ripped off a huge piece of it, almost half, and looked at the nurse suspiciously, obviously wanting answers. "How'd I end up here?" He was about to put that he remembered being the target of anger for a group of Abamasnows, but that was too embarrassing to say…. Just thinking about it brought a tinge of pink on his cheeks.

"Oh, your friend brought you here," the nurse answered.

The blonde looked surprised as he finished off chewing the remnants of his bread. "Friend?"

"Yes. He said his name was Paul."

Upon hearing that very name, the blonde found himself with newfound energy, letting him stand up straight without any trace of being injured or sick anywhere. "Paul? You mean _the _Paul?" His tone had turned from serious and drawly from excited to hyperactive in a blink of an eye, which made the nurse somewhat freaked out to the extent of giving him only a nod as a response to his answer.

The blonde then started to spasm and ran out of his room immediately, running around the Pokémon Centre in hopes that his idol was still around—and, lucky for him, he crashed into the purple-haired boy just in time, _literally_.

The two boys plopped down on the floor, and both got up at the same time. Usually, the blonde would've been annoyed by being late and fined the person he crashed into, but considering Paul was the one he was trying to catch up to, and also considering the fact that he _is_ Paul and is the one and only exception, instead of the usual fining statements, he stared at him with disbelief and glee, clasping his hands in each other. "Paul!"

The purple-haired boy seemed taken aback, frowning at the nuisance. "Do I… _know_ you?"

"Ha, funny!" The blonde started laughing out loud, attracting the attention of various passersby, though he seemed completely oblivious of it. "Barry's the name, and you saved my life, right? Ah, fancy how Paul—and not just Paul, _the_ Paul, which is you!—saved me! Not only are you a great trainer, you're also a hero—_my_ hero! You are the absolute best, the image of perfection! No no, you're even better than perfection!" The blonde began to scrutinize Paul, who was supposedly his proclaimed "hero," and frowned. "Oh, you're shorter by a centimeter than I imagined. Hey, isn't your hair a different shade than what I see on TV? No matter, _hero_!"

All Paul could do was stay silent and hear endless blabbering of blah blah blah… and _blah_. It came to the point where he practically erupted and screamed at him to just _shut up_ already. His supposed fan did just that—he said his name was Barney, right, or was it Barry… or Brody? Bah, it didn't matter—but was still smiling in a goofy way, his eyes twinkling brightly _still_.

Paul scowled. "Listen, _boy_," he started off, still clearly annoyed at Barry albeit the blonde's absent-mindedness, "go fawn over someone else. I don't have time for someone as pathetic as you."

"P-pathetic?" The sudden hyperactive energy he was seemed to glow with died down in an instant as he frowned, tugging at Paul's shirt like a small child. "I've been trying to train just like you! Getting stronger like you… that's what I want! You can't just judge me from such a short meeting."

Paul had raised a single eyebrow. Apparently, he could tell right off the bat that this boy was smarter than he thought. Though, that didn't mean he was exactly stronger or even less pathetic than he thought the blonde was before.

"Hey hey, how about a battle? Then I can prove to you that I'm not as pathetic as you think! Ah, proving myself to Paul!" He smiled and grabbed a Pokéball from his back pocket, waving it in front of Paul's face. "C'mon, c'mon. You've got ten seconds to bring out your balls: nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three—huh?"

Paul had left from his former position and was already exiting the Pokémon Centre. Barry, shocked, rushed over to the purple-haired boy and held him back, though Paul only slapped his hand away, and began talking to him without even facing the blonde. "I have no time to waste with you. Now stop being a persistent pest and leave me alone. I have a battle waiting for me in Snowpoint, and you'll just be slowing me down." The battle was a lie, of course, as he wasn't expecting to battle the Snowpoint gym leader yet, as aforementioned. Though, he'd probably do _anything_ to get rid of the blonde pest at this point.

"B-but but!" Barry tried to interject, but Paul just started to walk off anyway. The blonde felt like he pretty much lost his chance to a dream battle with Paul, and proving himself too.

When he was just about to walk back into the Pokémon Centre, he heard Paul's voice say something to him, with a lighter tone filled with a bit of playfulness. "Oh, and boy, wear something more than a scarf next time."

A smile crept on Barry's face as well as a small blush as he turned around, only to find that Paul had already disappeared into the depths of a forming fog. "Ah, he _does_ care… I guess." He suddenly started shivering, his hands clutching to his arms to embrace himself, and then suddenly…

_Achoo!_

The blonde started sniffling and walked back inside the Pokémon Centre, moaning in agony as his sickness had returned. "Great, now I'm sick again…! Gaaah!"

Still only a few feet away from the Pokémon Centre, Paul heard the same loud and disgusting noise again for the third time, but instead of being annoyed by it, he found himself smirking, rolling his eyes in an apathetic way. He wasn't sure what had gotten into him (did those pieces of hail hit him _this_ hard?) but the blonde's display of appreciation for Paul was a new thing for him, and even though he admit it _did_ get annoying, he also had to admit that it brought down his petulant levels just a wee bit for the moment—just enough for him to enjoy the blonde's cuten—erhem, _humorous_ misery.

**X X X**

Prequel to "Similarities". This was written a long time ago, hence the horrible writing style. I might re-write all this again, but seeing as how lazy I am, I kinda doubt it. :9


	3. A Paul in Need

**A Paul in Need**  
In the depths of Stark Mountain is a troubled young boy. Who better to save him than the boy he saved once before? ColdCoffee

**X X X**

With eight shiny badges placed accordingly in his badge case, the purple-haired boy, going by the name of "Paul," was once again planning to go on his way for yet another training session to work on his Pokèmon before the big Elite Four battle. Though, unlike last time, he wasn't going to the top of Mt. Coronet for the reasons of horrible weather and an uncanny meeting with an annoying fan. His current destination was Stark Mountain, another training area with even stronger Pokèmon to train with than Mt. Coronet. Even though it was a longer way there, it was definitely worth it for the stronger Pokèmon. Plus, what were the chances of meeting that nuisance again?

As he exited the Sunyshore Pokèmon Centre, he fished out a Pokèball from his pocket and threw it in the air, a red light escaping to form a peculiarly shaped blob. When the Pokèball magically levitated its way back to Paul's hands, the blob in turn turned out to be a giant, black crow—a Honchkrow—that proceeded to spreads its wings in its mirth of being released once again. The Big Boss Pokèmon then hunched its back over to allow its trainer hop on with ease. Then, as if it was already told before, the giant black bird took off airborne into the translucent blue skies, heading for Stark Mountain in a speedy but careful flight. Many cities and towns have they passed (even passing over a small stretch of a salty sea) when they finally reached the bottom of Stark Mountain.

Paul smoothly hopped off of the giant bird and recalled him, pocketing his hands in his stuffy jean pockets. His dark ebony eyes gazed up at the majestic, fiery mountain in front of him, the ash from said mountain falling gently upon his nose. In disgust, he blew it off and started hiking up the mountain. He passed a plethora of roaming Rhyhorns and Numels on his way up, though he barely ever acknowledged them. The Pokèmon he sought for were mainly their evolutions, Rhydon and Camerupt, as they would give Paul and his Pokèmon more of a challenge, but so far on his little hike, there were surprisingly none to be found.

With Paul venturing deeper and deeper into climbing to the top of Stark Mountain, the falling ash was ceasing. The same could be said for the "weak" Pokèmon aforementioned further on to the top.

Even though a hike for Stark Mountain usually took a while, Paul made it up in just a few hours with little signs of exhaustion (though, he did come fully prepared, taking short rests in-between and chugging down a small measure of water every so often). There was a noticeable cave entrance just beyond him, and thinking the strong Pokèmon were hiding in there, he made his way to it, a Pokèball firmly held in his hands.

Once the purple-haired boy entered the cave, he was partially startled by the Golbats screeching at him. He got out his Electabuzz to zap the Golbats away and went on deeper into the cave, avoiding as many Golbats and Gravelers as possible. Fortunately, he was lucky enough to spot a Camerupt here and there, sometimes even seeing a Rhydon herd with their babies. Paul took every chance he got in training every single one of his Pokèmon, even if their type was at a disadvantage. It came down to the point where he was practically at the deepest part of the cave with every single one of his Pokèmon thoroughly tired out. That meant, no matter how he detested it, training was over.

Paul looked around in an attempt to find the exit, but through every secret chamber he entered and still no sign of freedom, he found himself getting more and more livid. He was thirsty, frustrated, and, as much as he denied it, _lost_.

Usually, when one was lost, that person should've stayed put and wait for assistance. However, who was actually sane enough to venture into Stark Mountain's cave without any proper knowledge or sense of direction? Paul almost slapped himself silly as he unknowingly referred to himself as that very idiot.

Frustration caving in, the young boy started to walk around again in a second attempt to get out of the cave, but like last time, to no avail. He did, however, find himself in a new chamber, and from the looks of it, he wasn't the only human being in the cave.

In front of him were two indistinguishable people in skin-tight attire. They both had turquoise bowl cuts, though one was female and the other was male. The male was holding an enigmatic and flamboyant stone of some sort, and that seemed to be the main focus of the conversation between the two. However, once they heard the rock crack beneath Paul's feet, they turned their attention to him, smirking.

"If it isn't a little cutie," the female drawled out in a perky tone, Pokèball appearing in hand. She threw it in the air to reveal a Golbat, making Paul's nose wrinkle in disgust. He got out a Pokèball from his pocket and threw it up in the air in the same mannerisms as the girl, though the Pokèmon he revealed greatly differed from hers; it was his Honchkrow, the least exhausted Pokèmon in his party.

"Honchkrow, Dark Pulse now!" Paul commanded as the tired bird released a beam of a mixture of purple and black swirled together. It was slower than usual, thus missed the speedy Golbat, the other two humanoids smirking arrogantly.

"Feisty too," the boy said, sending out his own Pokèmon. It was an Ariados, though there was an evil aura lurking around it just like the girl's Golbat. The both of them ordered their Golbat and Ariados simultaneously, the two of them using Wing Attack and String Shot respectively. The Golbat's attack pretty much knocked down Honchkrow to an exceptionally weak status (something it has never experienced before) and, with Ariados using String Shot, it wrapped both the purple-haired trainer and his Pokèmon in its silky thread tightly.

The two partners started cackling evilly in their succession and ran out of the chamber with the stone in hand, leaving Paul and his Pokèmon inside. Paul growled in hatred and struggled to get free, but there was no use. His Honchkrow wouldn't even listen to him with its weak status, and he was pretty sure there was no other person in this cave that could help him escape.

Nonetheless, his struggle continued, attempting to at least free one of his other Pokèmon to rip out the strong thread suffocating him.

* * *

Barry looked at the tall tower in amazement as his father gently patted him on the back, letting out a wholehearted and husky laugh. "And this is the Battle Tower, home to yours truly!"

"This is so cool, dad," the hyperactive blonde exclaimed, noting every single "cool" feature about the Battle Tower: how tall it was, how shiny it was, how his very own _dad_ was the leader of it, and pretty much everything else about the Battle Tower that the blonde didn't notice in his first glance.

The older blonde wiped a sole finger on his nose sheepishly. "I know, I know," he said in an almost pompous way. "Here, let's go inside now. I'll give you the grand tour!" Another hearty laugh escaped his lips as he pushed his little son into the building, quickly running around the entire place to show him basically _everything_ in the tower. They didn't even bother taking the elevator as the stairs were a faster way of transportation for the energetic duo.

The journey to the top took the two blondes a longer time than the norm, as Barry's father was persistent in showing his son everything in the tower (except, of course, for the ladies' rooms) and even explained every single one in what seemed like rehearsed but surprisingly concrete paragraphs.

Once the blonde-haired due reached the top, which was his dad's special room, Barry took the liberty to view every single possession inside the room, making silly comments about every single one. Then, he decided to look out the window to awe at the beautiful view of the entire Fight Area. Though, at the corner of his eye, he found something amiss.

In the direction of Stark Mountain, Barry squinted to look at plumes of smoke coming out from the mountain. From all his times gazing at the mountain from various other cities that supplied a telescope, he has never seen the plumes of smoke ever come out of the mountain.

Barry quietly nudged his hyperactive father and pointed outside, the older blonde gawking in huge shock at the sight. "S-S-S-Stark Mountain?"

The younger blonde took his father's gawking expression and stuttering that something really _was_ wrong. With his father panicking and calling every single police station in the Fight Area, Barry quietly slipped away to investigate on the manner himself.

He sent out his Staraptor and told it to head for the smoke plumes up ahead, the huge bird obeying its trainer happily. Then, off they went to the direction of Stark Mountain, Barry smiling at some newfound excitement.

* * *

Paul had succumbed to kicking his Honchkrow in hopes it would come to its senses and break him out of the thread already. However, the Honchkrow was still heavily beaten up and couldn't bother to be aggravated by its trainer's relentless kicking.

"Good for nothing bird," Paul said under his breath, sighing. Wasn't there _any_ way to free him and escape from this hazardous mountain? If he knew this was going to happen, he would've gladly made his way to Mt. Coronet even _with _the nuisance.

Though, he spoke too soon.

Small tapping noises could be heard from outside the chamber. Paul's head turned to the left to see the hyperactive blonde in all his glory, searching hurriedly around the chamber, still oblivious to Paul's embarrassing position. "Of all the times to get lost!" the young boy moaned loudly, walking deeper into the chamber. That was when he noticed the purple-haired boy and felt a spasm rush throughout his body, making his way to him. "Paul! I'm so glad to see you!" He eyed the silky string tied around Paul's arms and waist and looked at him in confusion. "Huh? What happened?"

"Just untie me, you fool!"—and people thought _Barry_ was impatient? Paul scowled as the blonde before him chuckled.

"Fine fine." Barry's hands quickly brushed against Paul's body as he attempted to untie him, but the attempt ended in failure. "Wow, this is some tough thread."

Paul rolled his eyes, obviously furious. "Why don't you send out your Pokèmon, Blondie?"

Barry laughed nervously, scratching his head in a meek manner. "Well, I would, but you see, they're not so good on targets yet. They might miss and cut you in half. Not sure if I'd take that chance." Paul sighed, meaning to ask for any help besides _this_.

The blonde, persistent, kept on trailing his hands around Paul's body, trying to find a possible weak spot in the thread. Paul winced ever so often at the times the blonde would randomly grab roughly at a possible weak spot of thread, but all that ever accomplished was squeezing Paul's flesh in-between his slender, bony fingers—and yes, Paul minded it _very_ much. It was even much more torturous than the hail pellets that kept knocking on his head back in Mt. Coronet!

"Listen, Blondie, stop it!" Paul finally heaved out in frustration as Barry retreated his hands back to his sides, looking at the purple-haired boy with both worry and bewilder written all over his face. "You're not even helping at all!"

"S-sorry," Barry stuttered rather quickly, his cheeks burning in a red sensation. He was sure he was acting like a huge idiot in front of the one he was trying to please. Sheesh, why did it always end up like this? "Here, if you want, we can take a chance with my Empoleon."

"Whatever," Paul said, diverting his gaze from the flushed blonde.

Barry took out a Pokèball from his back pocket and threw it up in the air, revealing his mighty and proud Empoleon. "I'll take that as a yes. Empoleon, cut that thread, but make sure not to hurt Paul or I'm fining you." Empoleon looked timidly at the wrapped up boy in front of it and nervously readied a Steel Wing attack to set the purple-haired boy free. Then, with a careful slash, it sliced through the thread quickly, letting Paul finally breathe again.

He stood up and brushed the dirt off himself, returning his own Pokèmon in its Pokèball. Then, he turned to face the hyperactive blonde and sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Thanks, Blondie. I owe you one… I guess." Did those sickening words actually escape his mouth? From the looks of the blonde's glittering eyes, he was pretty sure they did, and sighed in regret yet again.

"Really? Thanks! I'll think of something soon." Barry gushed, returning his Empoleon. "Uh, in the meantime, let's get outta here." He grabbed Paul by the hand and started rushing out of the chamber, running around the entire area of the cave to search for the exit. Paul actually let the blonde drag him around willingly with no complaints. After all, if it wasn't for his… ahem, "hero"… then who knows what kind of trouble Paul would've been in? He figured _this_ was trouble enough.

**X X X**

Lame title, I know. xD Ah Paul, he's in such denial. :D This is a prequel to "Similarities" but a sequel to "Achoo!". I'll get all this organized... someday.

This is just a reupload (again) to clean up my story archive.


End file.
